


Oi, Cowboy, Fetch

by TheresDragonsHere



Category: One Piece
Genre: Drinking, Swearing, Violence, warnings will be added as necessary
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-08-20 12:20:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16555643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheresDragonsHere/pseuds/TheresDragonsHere
Summary: Retrieval work is the sole of the boot of the World Government: always dirty. Go hither and yon to prevent a full scale revolution? Any day, but with this crew, the work is cut out rough. With the wounds of the past and twenty years of grit work coming to a head, you better pack some iron, because Rob Lucci won't play second fiddle without a fight.





	1. Retrieval Squad A

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying very hard to participate in NaNoWriMo this year. I know I won't be anywhere near finished within the month because of work and class and life, so I haven't dedicated myself to an original work. But in the spirit of the beast, this entire story line was conceived within November. Also on tumblr, for those that prefer - oldopossumssketchbook

1 - Retrieval Squad A

 

Retrieval Squad A returned to Eyn’s Rock with no loss of life or limb. Eyn’s Rock, the interim base of operations for the Cipher Pol and all previous employees of Enies Lobby, was over-capacitated, under-equipped, and grim. Unlike the regal white and bright buildings once on Enies Lobby, everything on Eyn’s Rock was dark, foreboding, and brutal. On the New World side of the Red Line, most things were. Until recently it had been desolate and disused, leaving only a handful of operative branches for temporary occupancy as everyone else was slowly shipped to Paradise. A complete 180 took place when Enies Lobby was blown away. In Oirick’s opinion, this was a good thing. She liked her office.

The leader of Retrieval Squad A, Oirick, held the front end of a box. Her two juniors, Limik and Kiyu, took the back. The box itself was long, black, caked in dirt, and reeked so terribly that everyone in Eyn’s Port gave them a berth of at least ten feet, and even more where possible. The ship’s crew had suffered an entire journey with said smell permeating every board and fiber of the ship, and none of them were sorry to the Retrieval Squad go. 

As they disembarked from the ship, Oirick passed an order to Captain Melville. “Make sure the body bag makes it to the morgue. They’ll want to know who it was.”

The captain nodded, thinking that the act of holding his breath had gone unnoticed by the Retrieval Squad.

When the box was exhumed three days ago, it smelled bad. It now smelled like a dead skunk, but with the ripe scent of decay hanging over that like a boogeyman. Limik could not wipe the grimace off his face, and Kiyu had tied a Marine bandana around her own in a desperate attempt to filter the smell. 

Oirick was so distracted by her throbbing leg that the smell no longer bothered her. She led the march towards the retrieval office on the unforgiving incline that gave Eyn’s Rock it’s signature silhouette. Normally, the incline was peanuts to Oirick, but the wound in her leg had only just begun to close, and she could feel the bandages over it growing hot and sticky again. So, with her limp and her black hat, her two juniors in filthy black suits, and the massive black box hanging between them, they looked exactly like a funeral procession. 

Agents and Marines around them beat a retreat as they came within smelling range, and eyed the team with disgust. The only person willing to approach them came trotting downhill, clad in a clean black suit and looking much more jovial than any of the retrievers. Oirick looked up when he slowed down his pace to walk beside them.

“Oi, Oi, what’s going on?”

Oirick sighed, looking at Corgy’s sneer. “Working, unlike some people.”

Corgy snorted, “I work plenty! I’m working right now! I just don’t come back from work looking like you guys do.”

“Whatever, interrogation. Go shine a light in someone’s face.”

“You know we don’t-! Tch!” Corgy rolled his eyes, “well, I’m supposed to tell you something, but maybe I won’t now.”

Limik, voice straining, snapped, “can’t you see we’re busy!”

“Watch it,  _ intern _ .” 

“Go fu-”

Kiyu stepped on Limik’s foot. He swore, jumping away. The box jerked to the left, catching Oirick’s leg and nearly taking her to the ground as the wound in her thigh opened entirely. She staggered, almost running into Corgy.

“Knock it off back there!” Oirick snarled. “This thing isn’t a damn toy!”

“Yes ma’am! Sorry ma’am!” Limik fell back in line next to Kiyu, who was looking down at her feet sheepishly. 

Forgive me, ma’am.”

Oirick sighed again, harder. She regained her footing and continued on uphill. “Just tell me Corgy, I’m not in a great mood.”

“I can tell, sheesh. What’s with the limp? You look like hell.” He didn’t wait for her to reply. “Admiral Kizaru is on the island, looking for you. Said ‘send her over after she drops the body’. So who’s in the box?”

“Dammit Kizaru,” she muttered. “I’m not supposed to talk about it, but there he goes telling everyone. I’m sure you’ll hear anyway. It’s - “

“A scholar!” Limik piped up.

Kiyu and Oirick both hissed at him to ‘shh!’ and he ducked his head.

“What did I say about the ‘s’ word?” Oirick growled.

Limik’s face turned vibrant pink. “Don’t use the ‘s’ word,” he peeped.

“Unless?”

“Unless an Admiral uses it.”

Corgy burst out laughing, deepening the shade of blush on Limik’s face, “that was adorable! But seriously, Kizaru is at the top. Oh, and take that to the morgue, not the Retrieval lab. It fucking stinks.”

“How about you carry it, and I’ll go get a drink.” Oirick replied.

“Sorry! Got work to do! Good luck with Kizaru and his monster!”

He trotted on downhill again, retracing some of his steps. Oirick watched him from the corner of her eye. What monster? The scholar? She would have asked him to explain himself, but he was long gone. The morgue was no closer to port than the retrieval lab was, but at least the smell would freeze off, and that was one little victory to look forward to.

 

They set the box down on a surgical table that had been lowered as much as possible. As soon as the box left her hands, Kiyu went to the sink and scrubbed her arms up to the elbow, then her face. Limik wrung his palms, which were sore from where the brass handles had dug into them. Oirick sat, immediately. The mortician fetched clean wrappings and put a small suture in her leg, which already hurt so much that she let it happen without anything to numb it, not even ice. It stopped bleeding, thankfully; it seemed relieving it of the weight of the box was the greatest aide. 

They could not leave though, the job was not all the way done. Until the government’s linguist Lakoff arrived, they were charged with protecting the payload. The mortician fiddled with her tools awkwardly, looking over the box when the retrievers weren’t looking at her. Whatever was inside was valuable, dangerous, dead, and smelled to high heaven.

“Good god move! Do you know who I am?”

The weary retrievers looked up at the door, where the voice was creeping closer. Disgruntled secondary voices followed in his wake. It was sharp and nasally, and the footsteps of several others were behind it. Of course, one of the government’s most valuable assets would have guards present. He swept in, pushed Limik out of his way. Behind him, a gorgeous young woman followed, and two even younger marines in over their heads were behind her. The guards stayed outside. The woman pulled Limik up without missing a beat, and smiled at him. He cheesed back.

“Good god it really is here,” the Linguist marvelled, circling the box. “You, cowboy, open this up.”

Oirick stood and wedged her fingers into the slot hiding beneath the lid, and pulled. The nails squeaked against the wood and bent as they came out of the box itself. The smell from inside came on stronger than ever, suffocating everyone in the room. Even the flowers in the hall corridor seemed to wither. The lid popped off and revealed a corpse that seemed barely a year old. 

The mortician approached, a mask over her face. Her eyes were watering with the sickly sweet smell. Limik left the room, nauseas, and Kiyu followed, tying her bandana over her face once again. Oirick just grimaced, but could not bear the idea of walking away in light of what she was seeing.

The corpse was male, almost entirely naked (he was wearing some holey wool socks), and his skin strongly resembled a newspaper that had been left in the sun: yellowing, dry, and covered in old writing. His entire body, face, hands, legs, everything save for the most sensitive of extremities, was covered with scars. Each scar was a character in the ancient language, with a direct translation beside it. There were words, basic things like ‘person’, ‘cat’, ‘dog’, and ‘house’, and more complicated things Oirick did not look at too hard. And it was all  _ tiny _ , it must have taken ages to carve such delicate details into skin. Ages and talent.

“Bless my bones,” Lakoff whispered. “He’s a dictionary…”

Oirick took her eyes away. The language was forbidden, and though she could look forever and never stop being amazed, she preferred to have her job. Limik poked his head in, his face still screwed up at the smell of the body.

“Ma’am, can we see the-”

“Get out!” Oirick snarled, “go home! Both of you! You never saw this!”

Limik ducked out, “I mean, we didn’t so - ouch!”

“Shut up, moron! Let’s go!”

“You don’t have to be so mean!”

Oirick came out into the hall, “why are you still here? What did I say? OUT!”

Kiyu turned on her heel and went on without another word. Limik scrambled behind her, apologizing profusely to his boss. Oirick returned to the room; Lakoff was examining a shriveled arm and his female escort was giggling a bit.

“He’s adorable, aren’t you lucky to have cute underlings.” She smiled.

Oirick just shook her head.

“Actually, I think it would be best for you to go as well,” Lakoff looked up at her, eyes magnified to obscene proportions by funny glasses. He extended a small piece of paper to her from the other side of the body. She took it. 

_ Received at about 3:30 pm by Lakoff. _

Under his barely legible sentence was a fancy scroll signature. She tucked it into her badge bifold and tipped her hat to the linguist. He was no longer looking at her, but his guard smiled and winked at her. Relieved, she left the morgue, and went further uphill to the top of the island.


	2. Fine Print

2 - Fine Print

 

The Judiciary building, courthouse, and executive housing all squatted at the top of Eyn’s Rock like three enormous toads. A fog had formed around them with the onset of the cool evening air, giving them each a looming obsidian presence. The inside of the judiciary building was just as bleak and intentional as the outside. A heavy slab front desk was manned by a young intern, who barely looked passed their newspaper when Oirick approached.

“Oirick?”

“I am,” she replied.

“He’s in 2B.”

The curt reply ignited an impulsive desire to tear the newspaper from the intern’s hands. They did not look up, just stayed behind the paper without greeting her or even checking the validity of her statement. There wasn’t time for the seething comments she had come up with; Kizaru had been waiting for her for nearly two hours thanks to the linguist’s slow dismissal. Oirick made a mental note to berate the building’s management about getting staff that could afford a little eye contact and some respect now and then instead, and made for the wide staircase beyond.

2B had become obsolete and disused as agents left Eyn’s Rock for Enies Lobby. Now it was constantly booked, only free in the wee hours of the morning when people went down to sleep. The once broken handle of the meeting room had been replaced with a smooth lever, not disturbing the eerie silence in the hall when it opened. Oirick stepped inside the room and faced Kizaru, who was waiting in direct line of the door. A cocktail shrimp in his hand, a cigar resting on the lip of an ashtray, he grinned at her.

“Ohh, there she is, our star retriever.”

Oirick tipped her hat to him.

“Well sit down, you look exhausted.”

Oirick sat across from him at the long wood table. Her leg began to throb again; she discreetly placed a hand on her thigh. The only light in the room was the incandescent tube light overhead, bathing her in off-white. Behind Kizaru was a swath of black that raised the hairs on her neck.

“You’ve been really busy lately, Oi, and done a great job at it,” Kizaru drawled. He dunked his cocktail shrimp with a heavy hand in the sauce bowl. “Shrimp?”

“No thanks, Admiral.”

“So formal! You can call me Kizaru when it’s just us, you know.”

“No thanks, Admiral.”

“Hmm,” he sighed. “You must be tired, I know you just came back with the scholar. Good job! The Gorosei were impressed, and they’re so excited to meet him.”

“I’m beat, sir.”

Kizaru laughed, “I’ll make it quick then. We’ve had an opening come up, and we want you to fill it.”

“We?”

“All of the Admirals of course! We couldn’t think of a better head for the job!”

Oirick’s stomach fluttered, “what’s the job?”

“Our interim leader for the CP9 is… terrible. The way you’ve been cranking out trainees, we thought you might be better. Congratulations!”

Oirick swallowed. “I… Admiral, I don’t know what to say.”

“Nothing yet, there’s one small thing we need taken care of before your promotion,” he ate another shrimp slathered in cocktail sauce. “Pending you can do it, you’ll be sitting back in a nice chair eating sea king steak instead of digging up bodies.”

“What’s the job?”

Kizaru turned his head to the blackened corner of the room. From the shadows, a figure emerged. An open neck shirt and burgundy trousers, hands in his pockets, and wiry hair free in a black mane outlined the unmistakable sinister face of Rob Lucci. He hung behind Kizaru like an expressionless gargoyle.

Kizaru looked back at Oirick and slid a red file across the table. She opened it as Kizaru spoke, “there’s a group of revolutionaries in possession of a book in the forbidden language. And they can read the book with - “

“A scholar’s stone.” Oirick mumbled. “The stone that was stolen from Mesa.”

“Ohhh she’s very smart. Like a whip, this one.” He looked up at Lucci with a humorous grin, but Lucci did not return it. “I told Akainu you were being wasted in Retrieval.”

“So they stole the stone and are using it to read the book,” she read through the file. Through chatter picked up over Den Den Mushi, they had pieced together a few things.

“And the Poneglyphs,” Kizaru added.

“So why are you asking me to do this?” Oirick shut the file, having gleaned everything they knew already.

“See, that’s the thing. Since we lost Aokiji, it’s only Akainu and me, and Aokiji’s replacement isn’t official yet. These revolutionaries aren’t red listed, so we can’t afford the time to track them down. So we decided someone else could handle this.” Kizaru ate another shrimp, “and with a little backup, there’s nothing keeping you from success.”

“And how is it that my backup was a wanted criminal not a year ago?”

Kizaru waved, “ohhh, a mix up, a mix up! Everything’s taken care of with Rob Lucci, I’m sure you’ll find him and his team up to standard.”

Oirick cocked an eyebrow. “His team?”

“Kaku and Jabra of course! Excellent agents!” Kizaru finished off his shrimp and threw the last tail into the dish. “And pending your approval, they’ll be working for CP-0! Completely off your hands! So there’s nothing to worry about.”

Oirick nodded in spite of disagreeing with Kizaru’s optimism entirely. Nothing to worry about seemed like a long way off from where they were standing. The back half of her day was spiraling out of control. A leg wound, the mutilated body of a scholar, Rob Lucci. A combination that did not seem real or feasible.

“Of course not, sir. Do we have a heading?”

Kizaru smiled, “you’ll be in North Blue on a little island called King Valley. Lovely place for a vacation! They’ve captured the two revolutionaries stationed there who were known to be communicating with your target, so you are going to follow their direction. Sound good?”

“Yes sir.”

“Gooooood,” Kizaru stood up, and Lucci took a couple steps away. “You leave in thirty two hours, so enjoy your day off! Once you reach King Valley, my hands are off the wheel, yeah?”

“Absolutely. I’ll take-... _we’ll_ take care of this.” Oirick glanced at Lucci, who smirked.

Kizaru came around the table and shook her hand. He waved goodbye to Lucci, and left 2B. Oirick stayed where she was, standing now, and faced Lucci. He smirked again, meandering around the table to her.

“Honor to be part of your little team, _ma’am.”_

“Can’t wait to set off with you, _Rob_.”

He chuckled, but in his chest it was more like a rumble. A dark, heavy presence followed him out the door, and when it was gone, Oirick breathed in deep.

 

Instead of going to her housing in the sublevel, Oirick went to her office. Her brain was attempting to function even though it was beginning to suffer from exhaustion. The meeting with Kizaru had sucked the wind clean out of her.

The lobby was dark, the front desk unmanned. She locked the front door again. Careful not to stir anyone else that may have been lurking in similar fashion, she shut herself in her second floor office. Oirick was lucky enough to have a corner office, with two slit windows - one facing the sea, and one looking downhill.

Oirick laid her belt to rest on her desk, her revolver and whip going slack on the table. Her sprung armchair creaked when she fell on it, sinking in the middle. She took off her hat, kicked her filthy boots away, and took her little den den mushi out from the folds of her beat-to-death shawl. She set him on the arm of the chair, and his stalk eyes turned to her.

Oirick looked back at him, and he continued to look at her. She dialed.

_Bada-bada-bada-bada-bada_

_…_

_Bada-bada-bada-bada-bada_

_…_

_Bada-bada-bada-bada-bada_

_…_

_Bada-bada-bada-_

“What have I said about calling me after work hours? Who is this?”

“Shut up, coyote ugly,” Oirick grinned.

Corgy groaned, “I got out of bed to answer this. What do you want?”

“Pop skull.”

“Government’s English, gaucho.”

“ _A drink_.”

“It’s 2:30 in the morning.”

Oirick looked at the wall clock and was appalled to find out he was not lying. She shook her head, “what are you up to tomorrow?”

“Work.”

“ _After_ work.”

“Nothing!”

“Good let’s get a drink at Thirston’s at 7.”

Corgy made a sound, but Oirick knew he was smiling. He wouldn’t turn down a drink any day. “Fine, whatever. See you there. I’m going back to sleep.”

_Gacha._

Oirick dragged the chair’s ottoman closer until it butted against the chair. She slid down, laying on her back in the little sunken spot; her muscles shrieked. Her thigh had stopped hurting, finally; the mortician had done a clean stitch job. She closed her eyes, raised her hand to her forehead, lightly traced the scar there - from the right of the forehead, over the bridge, just above the left side of her jaw - and lingered.

Her hands folded over her middle just before she fell asleep.


	3. Teeth in Both Ends

3 - Teeth in Both Ends

 

_ Would you stop me, Oi? Could you? _

_ Is it worth this? _

_ It’s worth everything. _

Oirick jerked awake, still on the chair in her office. Morning sunlight fell in a narrow rectangle on the coffee table, illuminating dust in the air. The wall clock ticked off 8:30. She eased herself up, her back cracking from tailbone to neck in quick succession. Her thigh was sore again, prompting her to dig through her desk drawers until she found a handful of painkillers from the last time she’d been in stitches. 

Other people were active in the building. She could hear a few voices floating down the hall, and doors opening and closing. Coffee steamed in the breakroom; she took a cup for the road back to her housing. The Rock was busy now, the streets full of agents and marines pushing each other around to get where they were going. For one glorious most-of-a-day, Oirick had nothing that needed to be done.

But a day off just wasn’t in the cards.

 

Limik balled up on the couch in Oirick’s office, feet tucked under him. Kiyu stood, browsing the dust covered books on Oirick’s office shelves - novels about agents and criminals, and a few self-indulgences. They were well rested, dressed down; loose trousers and soft shirts and worn out shoes. They had taken care to shower until the evidence of their sacrilegious unearthing of the scholar was all down the drain. 

Oirick, looking more like someone who had woken up on an old chair only hours ago, poured three little glasses of rum and set two on the coffee table. Limik’s mouth twisted, “isn’t it early to be drinking, ma’am?”

“It’s after twelve, and the last day you have off for the foreseeable future. Enjoy it.”

Kiyu reached over the couch and took her glass, but Limik cupped his between his hands. “If it’s our day off, why are we here?”

Oirick set her glass on the table again and opened the red file from Kizaru. “Well, we’re setting off tomorrow at five in the morning. Did you want to have this meeting the morning of, or do you want to sleep in?”

“Sleep, ma’am.”

“I feel the same. So here’s the lowdown,” she finished her first glass of rum, wondering why she barely poured herself a shot. “A few revolutionaries broke into Mesa about six months ago. Do you know about this?”

“Yes,” Kiyu nodded.

“Uh... “

Oirick waved her hand, “it’s fine that you don’t know. It was kept quiet on purpose. Even the agents that  _ think _ they know, don’t. What do you know, Kiyu?”

Kiyu sipped her rum, “revolutionaries broke into Mesa and tried to steal something.”

“Did they succeed?”

“No ma’am.”

Oirick cocked a finger gun at Kiyu, and made a soft pop with her mouth, “and that’s what everyone heard. They  _ did _ succeed, and they stole something that was never  _ never _ meant to be publicized. Thankfully it ain’t been yet, but there’s a very real chance that happens.”

“What did they steal?” Limik asked, smelling his drink.

Oirick reached over the table to Limik and took his glass. She downed it all at once. “In addition to the Night Sword, they stole the Scholar’s Stone.” She went to her liquor cabinet and uncorked a bottle of wine. “Which is the only way to read the forbidden language.”

“I thought Nico Robin could - “

“The only way for _ anyone else _ to read the forbidden language.” She handed a glass of table wine to Limik and narrowed her eyes, “smart ass.”

Limik replied with a conciliating smile.

“So they can read the Poneglyphs,” Kiyu said.

Oirick nodded. “They’ve got a book as well, from the chatter we’ve caught on air. Some kind of storybook-mythos type thing.”

“Is that important?” Limik asked, tucking himself into the couch’s corner.

“Apparently,” Kiyu rolled her eyes.

Oirick ignored them and pushed on, “it’s leading them somewhere.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know.” Oirick shrugged, and eyed her glass.

A brief silence came over them. Oirick closed the red file and put her feet on her coffee table. Kiyu put the book away and came to sit in the other corner of the couch. 

“So we’re getting this back?” Limik asked.

“There’s something you’re not saying.”

Oirick bowed her head. She nodded, “yeah, there’s more. We ain’t going alone.”

Limik brightened, “did we get a new intern?”

“Not exactly,” Oirick sighed. “Remember the buster call and Enies Lobby and all that mess?”

“You said you were glad you get to keep your office.” Limik nodded.

“Yeah. Well the members of the CP9 there mostly dispersed, but apparently not all of them,” Oirick poured more drink, heavier this time. “Kizaru has ‘assigned’ me Rob Lucci, along with two others.”

“Why?” Kiyu asked.

“They’re on probation.”

“Oh, of course, give all the probates to retrieval,” Limik huffed. “What’s new.”

“Shut up, moron,” Kiyu snapped.

“Probationary hold for CP-0 is more appropriate.” This silenced them, “if we finish this job, they get positions inside.”

Kiyu furrowed her brow, “and what do you get?”

“Leadership of the new CP9.”

Limik’s jaw slacked, his mouth sagged open, “so you’re gonna leave us!”

Oirick shrugged, “if this goes well, it’s likely.”

Limik stood up, clunking his empty glass down. “You can’t leave! What about us?”

“Well, you’ll be moved up and given a new leader.”

“Who?” 

“I don’t  _ know _ yet, Limik.”

“Sit down,” Kiyu grabbed Limik’s sweatshirt and pulled him to the couch.

“How can you sit down?!” He snapped at her, “she’s gonna just-! Go! Like that! Poof!”

“It’s a promotion, not a magic trick!” Kiyu returned.

Oirick rubbed her thigh as the volume in the room rose. Limik stood again, shouting, then Kiyu, faces inches apart. Spit flew from someone’s mouth and landed on the coffee table. Oirick clenched her teeth. “Alright! Sit down!” 

Her order fell on deaf ears. Limik snarled at Kiyu. Kiyu grabbed Limik’s collar and jerked him towards her. Oirick shot up from her chair.

“SET DOWN!”

They gaped at her, frozen, forgetting the fight they were about to have. Rum had sloshed out of Oirick’s glass and landed in a wet constellation on the floor. Kiyu let go of Limik’s collar with a shove that sent him back down to the couch, and seated herself on the opposite end once more.

“You two have  _ got _ to stop acting like plumb fools!” Oirick ran a hand through her hair, “what’r you gonna do if I’m gone? Anyone else would tan your hides for that!”

Limik had begun to shrink as Oirick paced around the office. “Hell-fire! I work this damn job for twenty-some years, finally get an offer for something better, and you’re gonna kick up a row with me?! You’re lucky I don’t give you both a licking!”

Oirick had stormed to her desk, blind, and now clenched the edge with white-knuckle force. She sucked in a breath. She finished her rum. Kiyu was staring into her glass, face blotchy red. Limik had pulled his knees to his chest, and was holding them with both arms. Oirick rubbed her face, her leg now throbbing in time with her blood pressure. She limped back to her chair, head down.

She breathed in deep, held her breathe, and loosed it again. “Apologies,” she muttered.

Limik shook his head, whispered, “it’s okay. It’s me.”

“No, it ain’t you,” Oirick arranged her feet on the ottoman, careful to keep her thigh slack. “You’re young, you got time. I ain’t young like you.”

“You still have time,” Limik protested, “you’re not old!”

“I didn’t say I didn’t,” Oirick cocked a wry grin. “And I damn sure did not say  _ old _ . I’m just tired of running around. I don’t want to spend my whole life digging up bodies and stealing devil fruits. I want to relax.”

“You deserve to,” Kiyu said.

“Now don’t kiss up.”

“Really! You do!” Limik nodded. “We’ve had thirteen successful retrievals in a year! And you’ve been doing this since… a long time-ish.”

“I appreciate you saying it.” Oirick waved to them, unable to withstand anything deeper, “go enjoy the rest of your day off. Be at port by 4:30 tomorrow morning. Don’t be late, I may actually give you a hiding.”

She smirked. Limik smiled and took off out the door. Kiyu took the book she had been reading off the shelf. 

“Can I borrow this?”

Oirick looked up, and waved Kiyu on as well. “Go on, just don’t lose it.”

Kiyu thanked her and left.

The office door shut, leaving Oirick alone. She had barely been awake for four hours, but her eyes closed and her head went back on the chair cushion. Behind her eyes, her thoughts raced miles faster than her pulse. The echoing cry of her outburst faced her with the open grave of a thick dialect, and all at once she was wide awake again.

 

Corgy gazed into his beer mug as if waiting for it to speak tongues. The frost on the outside was melting all over the bar but he paid it no mind. His light eyes began flicking aimlessly, searching the woodgrain under his fingertips where someone had scratched it with a beer cap. 

Oirick turned her eyes from him. She’d said everything she could say, told him everything she could tell, and even such a scant glimpse of the situation was enough to turn more wheels than most people functioned on. The image of the red file on her coffee table had seared itself to the inside of Oirick’s eyelids and imprinted the black secrets within on the front of her brain.

“Shit,” Corgy finally spoke, shaking his head in a listless way, “I mean,  _ shit _ . You really do have the worst job I’ve ever heard of.”

He snorted. Oirick punched his beefy shoulder, and he leaned away from her before she could hit him harder.

“Sorry, sorry,” he still smiled. “But y’know, that’s a good offer. Cushy job; you remember when Spanda first started there and we nailed him at the Agent’s Affair for the spare tire he picked up?”

“ _ You _ nailed him for that.  _ I  _ was in West Blue.”

“Shit, that’s right!”

“Careful talking about those spare tires there, beings you have one yourself.”

Corgy slapped his hand on the bar, “I’m 45! I look like I’m 45!”

“I’m just saying now don’t get all twisted up over it. Beside, he worked it off.”

“He  _ stressed _ it off! I worked on Enies Lobby y’know.” Corgy’s blush began to fade to pink.

“ _ Worked _ is a strong word.”

The blush returned full force. “I  _ worked _ on Enies Lobby, and we used to get drinks now and then. Those guys were a zoo! Took that spare tire and then some.”

Oirick did not reply. She ordered another two fingers and looked at the oaky liquid clinging to the side of the glass. The packed bar roared around her, like blood rushing in her ears. Corgy pushed her shoulder, lightly.

“But you’ll be fine. You’re tougher than he was. Hell, you’re tougher than me!”

“I ain’t worried about the job. I’m thinking about what I’ve got to pull off to get it. I’ve been on it all day thinking about what to do.”

“What do you mean? Sit back and let Lucci do the heavy lifting.”

Oirick shook her head, “can’t. I know a man should be measured by today and not yesterday, but I just can’t see beyond it. He’s violent, he’s aggressive. I don’t ever pass my own agents when they act like that. I send them down to Marine training when they want to get uppity.”

“So don’t pass him.”

“I don’t think that’s an option if I want out of here.”

“Then pass him and move on.”

“And when he murders people that don’t deserve it? Begets power? I can’t wash my hands so easily then.”

Corgy shrugged, “then refuse the mission.”

“I ain’t  _ never- _ ”

“So you have twenty years of passes to do it!”

Oirick scowled, “I don’t live like that.”

“So serious!” Corgy rolled his eyes and let his tongue flop from his mouth. “Like you were yesterday! Lighten up sometimes!”

“I will not ‘lighten up’ in front my my hands!” Oirick swivelled on the barstool to face him. “So when the likes of you come rolling around you can’t make a fool of me!”

Corgy paused to scrape up an insulting reply. “I… You’re- you- fine! You’re right.”

Oirick grinned, “I’m what now?”

“ _ Right _ .” Corgy growled.

Oirick laughed. When the moment passed, the pair sat and drank quietly, watching the tiny Proko broadcast above the bar. Wherever the reporter on screen was, it was pouring. Oirick downed her glass and put enough cash on the bar for both of them.

“Come on, your one day off you think I’m gonna make you pay?” Corgy huffed, chugging the bottom third of his glass.

“I asked you.”

“We can at least split it.”

“I don’t reckon that to be possible. I’ve got to go get some sleep, but don’t leave on my account.”

Corgy wiped the froth out of his moustache and stood with her. She tucked her revolver back into its holster and straightened her hat. 

“Come on gaucho, let’s get you home.”

“Going to walk me, Coyote Ugly?”

“Going to keep calling me that?”

Oirick laughed, even as Corgy whacked her shoulder with a solid fist. 

Eyn’s Rock had four subterranean levels. The bar was on the first, just feet below the surface. When the barflies really kicked up, it could be heard above. Oirick’s housing was the level below this, with almost every other agent residence. 

A small box was propped up by her front door. A label stamped on it contained her name, address, and the fine print of the Government’s policy on reading other people’s mail. She opened it with Corgy still there. Inside was a red wristwatch with no clock face. A red cone shell was in the place it should have been.

Corgy gaped, “that’s a black snail! Who the hell gave you a wiretapper?!”

Oirick knew it could only be from Kizaru. She strapped it on her wrist and smirked. “Looks good don’t it?”

She tapped the shell twice, and it opened to reveal a little black blob that unfolded itself into two stalk eyes and a little fanged mouth. She lifted the edge of her scarf and looked at her baby snail. 

“Look at that, you’ve got a new friend.”

The black snail hissed at the baby. Oirick laughed and dropped her scarf to cover the cowering snail, then closed the black’s shell.

“Lucky broad!” Corgy rolled his eyes. “I wish I had one of those.”

“What should I call him, huh? The baby’s Earp.”

Corgy snorted, “that’s a lame name. Mine’s Ajax.”

“You don’t know what’s good about what,” Oirick replied. “How’s about Hickock?”

“Yee-haw.”

Oirick punched him again, and he grinned through the pain. He grabbed her arm and crushed her in a hug, lifting her off the ground.

“Have fun, gaucho. See you when you get your promotion.”

Oirick broke free, gasping but grinning. “When I’ve got my executive office, you can scrub these old boots.”

“Not a chance!”

Oirick waved at him before he turned the corner. She entered her lonely housing unit and hardly managed to set her alarm before passing out into a bourbon sleep.


End file.
